


Into the Dark

by chronicopheliac



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, Introspection, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Finale, Pre-Relationship, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 13:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5667751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chronicopheliac/pseuds/chronicopheliac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Will mostly navel-gazes, Hannibal is obviously emotional, but it's only obvious to Will, and not much else happens.</p>
<p>This is my first attempt at Hannibal fanfiction, and is basically more of a warm up to lead into an idea I have. Figured I'd post it anyway.</p>
<p>Chiyoh is not technically in the story yet, but she's mentioned, so I tagged her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is appreciated. Not beta-read, so I apologize for any errors or weird sentences, ehehe.

There is a certain comfort in the certainty of one’s death. That is how Will feels at this moment, his arms around Hannibal, and Hannibal’s arms around him, as they plummet toward the turbulent sea below. Certainty, calm, a more intense sense of comfort and _rightness_ that he has never before experienced. Until he meets Hannibal’s eyes, just as they hit the water. What he sees knocks the breath out of Will before the impact does.

Love. Adoration, even. Acceptance, rather than resignation or betrayal.

_Could he daily feel a stab of hunger for you?_

He sinks, his arms still clinging tightly around Hannibal, and he feels his lungs burning.

_But do you ache for him?_

Will aches. He aches all over, inside and out, every inch of him feels like it’s either on fire or shattered. _Maybe that’s okay_ , he manages to think, as he feels himself and Hannibal be swallowed by the sea.

Hannibal isn’t moving.

A vague sense of panic grips Will then, though it takes him a moment to decide (or admit) why he is panicking. He aches, but he’s still alive, and Hannibal isn’t moving. The certainty he felt only seconds before has left Will entirely, acutely aware of the weight in his arms as his chest feels as though it will burst.

For a split second, Will considers giving in. Hannibal is probably conscious, after all, just waiting to see what Will is going to do in this moment. He doesn’t want to give Hannibal the satisfaction of giving in to his expectations. But then, Hannibal never really _expected_ anything, did he? Either he was pleased with an outcome, or he wasn’t. He’d probably be pleased whether Will lets them drown or not.

Will tenses all his muscles and kicks furiously, tightening his grip around Hannibal with one arm, and reaching for the surface with the other. He’s decided. They aren’t as deep as he thought, and they reach above water quickly, which shocks Will into choking as he gasps for breath. He nearly loses his hold on Hannibal in the process, and so briefly lets them sink back under to reposition his arms.

Desperately, he looks around them to see if the bluff is visible in the darkness, and he swears he can see the ravenstag not far off, presumably heading toward safety - shore or rock. His breath is still coming in gasps, but it is steadier now, and his mind is settling, since he has opted for survival. But he wasn’t going to accept surviving alone.

“Ha--aan!” is all he manages as he tries to stir Hannibal into waking, coughing from exhaustion and sea water getting into his mouth and lungs. Perhaps Hannibal’s unconscious after all. Will isn’t sure they’ll make it at all if Hannibal doesn’t wake, and the panic grows once again, much closer to frenzy.

_I’m curious whether either of us can survive separation._

Will doesn’t want to tempt fate with that kind of test, not anymore. Three years were enough.

“Hannibal!” He uses all the strength he can muster in his arms to squeeze around Hannibal’s torso, hoping that the pressure might do _something_ to rouse Hannibal even a little - he doesn’t want to risk letting go.

Finally, there is a groan from Hannibal, barely heard, but it eases Will’s pounding heart just enough, allowing his mind to focus again on the goal of staying alive. Hannibal opens his eyes with some effort, his arms tightening in response to Will’s. He seems to realize quickly where they are, and begins kicking his legs as well, so that they can support each other more easily in the water now.

“I think… the bluff is that way…” Will gestures with his chin to their left, and Hannibal nods. They support each other as they swim, knowing they are both likely more injured than they can feel.

Bedelia’s words keep repeating in Will’s head, making Hannibal a distracting presence at his side. He wants to look at him, ask him if Bedelia’s words have any truth to them. A part of him knows it to be true, that Hannibal loves him. But there is another part of him that doubts, that believes Bedelia was just trying to get under Will’s skin. It’s probably both.

When they make it to the bluff at last, they each manage to grab hold of a stable part of the rocky outcrop, and nearly collapse against each other. Will carefully avoids looking at Hannibal directly, but his right hand is once again grasping Hannibal’s shoulder, as though either one of them could disappear or slip away. He is too exhausted to be willing to face that gaze again.

“What now?” Will asks. There is a huff of laughter from Hannibal between gasping breaths.

“Why do you ask me? This is your design, dear Will. What do you wish for us to do?”

**

Will comes to with a groan of pain. He still aches everywhere, though there is more variation in the intensity now. His shoulder and cheek, predictably, hurt the most, but he can feel bruised (possibly cracked) ribs, along with either a sprained or broken ankle. He also feels the warmth of a bed, and sunlight from a window somewhere to his right. He slowly opens his eyes, adjusting to the light, then looks about the room to see where he is, finding the room entirely unfamiliar.

There is nothing of Hannibal’s particular taste decorating the room - the walls are white, the bedspread likely one of those ‘bed-in-a-bag’ items, if the garish multicoloured pattern is anything to go by. Hannibal would be appalled. The thought makes Will smile, which he immediately regrets upon feeling the painful tug of stitches on his cheek. There is a chair in the corner of the room by the window, not as garish, but just as ugly to look at with its beige, green and orange striped pattern. Obviously, whoever decorated this room was either blind, or a poor college student.

He groans again as he struggles to sit up, another movement he immediately regrets, but he’s committed at this point, and so stubbornly shifts so that he can lean his back against the rather uncomfortable wooden headboard. He finds himself disappointed at the chair for being empty. Usually in these situations, where Will is coming to from another bout of unconsciousness or fitful sleep, Hannibal is near.

_Can’t live with him, can’t live without him…_

They survived, he knows. He remembers. They had reached the bluff, and made their way to an area where they could more easily climb out of the water. They walked - well, more like hobbled - to a wooded area that was nearby. There was a car, he thinks, and someone sitting in the driver’s side, and then… Nothing that actually gives him anything useful. Voices, distant, the warmth of Hannibal’s hand.

_Can’t live without him._

There is a sound from the door, and for a moment Will thinks he sees antlers, but the moment passes and he sees Hannibal. He hadn’t realized how tense he is until his entire body relaxes at the sight of Hannibal, and that realization immediately annoys him. Hannibal’s face is, as always, entirely unreadable, his expression carefully neutral, though his eyes betray something of the strain he is under. Will notices that Hannibal is using a cane to lean on, and there is a slight bulge around his middle where he is likely bandaged.

“You’re alive.” Will says, impressing himself with his own talent for stating the obvious. He looks at Hannibal’s cheekbones, certain that Hannibal notices the deliberate avoidance of eye contact.

“As are you.” Apparently, Hannibal also chooses the safety of stating the obvious.

“Are you… going to stay that way?”

Hannibal’s mouth doesn’t twitch, but his eyes seem to smile, crinkling just slightly at the corners. “If you are asking if I may yet succumb to my injuries, you may rest assured. I will live.” He shifts with his cane, putting more weight on it, to ease the pain in his side.

Will nods, then looks down at his hands, feeling infuriatingly guilty. It takes some effort, but he is able to keep himself from clenching his jaw.

“Are you disappointed, dear Will?” Hannibal asks. “Was it your design that we die together, lost to the sea?”

Will looks toward the window, considering.

“I… can’t say that I’m entirely certain.” He brings his hand up to gingerly brush against the bandage on his cheek. “I remember thinking how exhilarating it was to take down the Dragon with you. I felt more than just powerful. And then…” He hesitates, and turns his head to once again face Hannibal, this time focusing on the corner of his mouth.

There isn’t any point in withholding anything from Hannibal anymore, Will decides. He made his decision in the sea, hadn’t he? When he dragged Hannibal back up to the surface, and fought for them both to live.

“But then I thought of Molly, and Walter. Alana and Margot, their child… Beverly. _Abigail_.” he almost whispers the last name, it’s the one that hurts the most, and it probably always will.

Hannibal’s mouth twitches this time, and there is something like understanding in his expression. No remorse, of course, but he doesn’t deny Will his concerns any more than he would try to ease them.

“Do you still think of them now?” Hannibal’s expression is once again relaxed into blankness, betraying nothing. Except that Will realizes that Hannibal might actually be unsure of Will’s intentions, which is actually rather thrilling. Still, this is not the right time to toy with Hannibal’s emotions, so Will tucks the impulse away for later.

“I don’t think it’s possible for me to stop thinking of them. Abigail’s still always in the stream in my mind, fishing with me.”

Hannibal nods, but Will gets the impression that he still doesn’t understand.

Will sighs heavily. “I’ve tried separation, Hannibal, for all the good it did. You might remember that I fought as hard as you did to get back on dry land.”

“I daresay you fought harder, as I was unconscious for much of that time. Had you not managed to keep your wits about you, it is not likely we would be here now.” Hannibal’s eyes have a peculiar shine to them.

“Stop hovering in the doorway, will you? Aren’t you in pain?” Will gestures to the ugly chair, rather enjoying the idea of Hannibal sitting in such a monstrous piece of furniture. A childish little whim grips him with the wish that he had a camera.

There is a pause before Hannibal quirks the barest hint of a smile, and he cautiously limps his way across the room.

“I admit, it certainly isn’t… comfortable.” He hisses softly as he lowers himself into the chair. Will considers himself fortunate that he is able to disguise the burst of giggles at the sight of Hannibal in cheap, tawdry furniture as a reaction to Hannibal’s understated acknowledgement of his pain. Will clears his throat in an attempt to control himself again.

“How long have we been… wherever this is?” Will gestures vaguely around the room.

“Chiyoh tells me it has been nearly two days since we arrived. I woke not long before you, this afternoon.”

Of course it was Chiyoh. Will is now able to clearly picture her in the car, along with flashes of some roughly-applied first aid. He can’t help the flicker of disdain that shows on his face, and scoffs.

“How the hell did _she_ get involved in all this? You’ve been in prison for three years.”

Will’s outburst seems to amuse Hannibal, and he allows a smile, showing teeth. “I thought we might run into some trouble with our dear friend Francis at the house, so I thought it prudent to call her. I told you she is very protective of me.” The pride in Hannibal’s voice is evident, and Will rolls his eyes. “As it turns out, she didn’t ever stray very far.”

“I see.” Will can’t think of anything else to say. There are too many uncertainties between them, flying around in his head. And then there is the one certainty that has given way to a million more new insecurities, the one revelation that Bedelia had gifted to him, which makes its way back to the forefront of his mind.

_Is Hannibal in love with me?_

_Yes._

What is he supposed to do with that, now? He was so prepared to kill Hannibal along with the Great Red Dragon, until the moment he wasn’t. He can’t even pinpoint the moment where he had changed his mind. Was it when he spoke to Bedelia? To Jack? Or was it when he saw Hannibal lying prone and wounded on the floor in that house? Whenever it was, it lead to him being absolutely sure that he and Hannibal had to die, together. Until that changed, too, and he pulled himself and Hannibal away from death, out of the sea.

The silence that settles between them isn’t exactly companionable, but neither is it exactly awkward. It occurs to Will that they are not unlike a couple of lovesick teenagers who just admitted they have a crush, which starts another outburst of laughter. Apparently, Will doesn’t yet possess the energy to reign himself in, emotionally.

Hannibal tilts his head and raises an eyebrow at Will, a subtle downturn of his mouth relaying his displeasure at not being in on the joke.

“Ha, sorry.” Will winces at the stitches in his cheek again, trying his best to stop smiling. “It’s nothing. Really. Uh. Is Chiyoh still around? ‘Cause I really have to piss and I need help getting up.”

This time, Hannibal laughs.

“Of course, Will. I will fetch her.” Hannibal uses his cane to pull himself up, closing his eyes briefly as though to shut out the pain. As he watches Hannibal leave, Will becomes certain of another thing: it’s a terrible twist of fate that they survived - it’s very likely that together, they will tear the world apart, if not each other. But he’s curious as hell to see what’s going to happen.


End file.
